


"You can't just keep pretending things are fine!"

by lcvelylupin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Kissing, Love Confessions, Love/Hate, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2018-04-03
Packaged: 2019-04-17 21:38:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14198211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lcvelylupin/pseuds/lcvelylupin
Summary: He hadn’t meant to say anything at all; the story was familiar: a night at the pub and a few blurred drinks. Well, he wasn’t that drunk. But he desperately needed some sort of excuse to avoid the obvious.





	"You can't just keep pretending things are fine!"

**Author's Note:**

> a dialogue prompt.

Harry’s whole body felt like it weighed thousands of pounds. He looked up at the ceiling of his bedroom, refusing to get out of bed. He hoped that the day would stay frozen in place, as if his life would transform itself into a watercolor painting. 

He groaned. He was going to talk to Draco today. 

He hadn’t meant to say anything at all; the story was familiar: a night at the pub and a few blurred drinks. Well, he wasn’t that drunk. But he desperately needed some sort of excuse to avoid the obvious. 

Trying not to think too much about it, Harry rose up from the creaky bed, his back cracking. Surely a shower would do him good. Draco couldn’t see how disheveled it all made him. How frustrated he made him. Malfoy would have a field day with that. 

He threw on an outfit blindly, eager for his morning tea. He was going to do everything under the sun to distract him from what was to come. Though he’d have to make sure he’d have enough energy to argue. He wouldn’t make it through a single interaction with a Malfoy without it. 

He decided to clean his flat. He washed dishes and clothes, swept the floors, dusted the furniture. All without magic, which showed how desperate he was for work. He even mopped, which was something he hated. Amidst all this, he couldn’t deny that a part of him looked forward to this. 

Because maybe, after all of this, it would be over. It would could be the end of things or the start. Harry’s stomach filled with nerves at the thought. He spent the remainder of the time breathing. He focused on the pattern, he watched his lungs expand, he felt the air as it moved rhythmically in and out of his nose. His eyes were closed until the doorbell buzzed.

He exhaled quickly and lifted himself from his dining room chair. He pressed the button.

“Potter, it’s me,” Draco spoke, using his usual bored drawl. Harry didn’t say a thing, just letting him in. 

And then, Draco was in front of him. His grey eyes crackled with curiosity, making a judgemental sweep around the flat. Everything was impeccable. 

“Well,” Draco cleared his throat. “I don’t know what the blazes I’m doing here, so you might as well tell me.”

Harry swallowed. He had thought this through so many times in his head, turned it over, flipped it around, turned it inside out. He’d never expected Draco to agree to anything he said; he never had. 

“I want to talk.”

Draco laughed, a stray blond hair swooping over his forehead. “Talk? Now?”

“Yes. Sit down. Would you like some tea?” he gestured to the kettle. 

“Might as well,” Draco responded lazily, removing a green and silver scarf from his neck and setting it on a chair, along with his jacket. 

They said nothing as Harry prepared the tea, Malfoy rolling his eyes at the way Harry was making things “the long way.” He got up from his place, unable to stand the stifling energy in the kitchen. His eyes focused on some framed photographs. 

Familiar Weasley ginger hair and uncontrollable Granger hair greeted him. All three figures laughed hysterically in the frame. In the next one, Harry was smiling, holding a small boy who was reaching towards Draco. His hair kept changing color. Above that one was a picture of Ginny, and- was that Luna Lovegood kissing her cheek? Ginny’s complexion blushed. 

“Tea’s finished.” Harry said. 

“Took so long I felt myself aging,” Draco replied almost automatically. Making jives at Harry Potter was second nature. 

Harry’s green eyes brightened and he laughed. “Oh shut up, Malfoy.”

Draco raised an eyebrow. “Is that any way to treat a guest? I might just leave.”

Harry scoffed, but remained playful. “Just sit here and listen to me.”

Demanding, Draco thought. He wiped the small smile from his face and sat down, Harry following suit. 

“I’m done,” Harry began.

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, fingers wrapped around a warm mug. “Done with what?”

Harry gesticulated towards himself and Draco. “This-this rivalry or whatever this is.”

Draco noticed Harry’s emphasis of the word this. “You’re saying this as if we have something,” he sipped the tea, which was actually delicious. Not that he would admit that, of course. 

“‘Because we do. I’m done pretending to be blind to it.” Harry wouldn’t take his eyes off Draco’s face. They burned him, causing him to blush.   
Draco wanted to slam his fist against the wooden table and shout that he had no idea what he was on about. 

But he did. 

They had kissed. They slept together. Not fully conscious; they always found themselves inebriated when these things happened. Draco wished the alcohol would do its bloody job and make him forget. Even if the memories were fuzzy, his skin was alive with the sensation of Harry’s touch. 

This is what happened when Draco allowed himself to open up. When he opened up, it led him to Harry Potter’s flat, which said something, but Draco didn’t listen. 

Despite this, Draco took his eyes away from Harry’s centerpiece and dragged his hand through his hair, meeting his eyes. “I have no idea what you’re on about,”

Harry sighed exasperatedly. “Do you like using all of your energy to hate me? Because I sure don’t. I’m taking a bloody break.” 

I hate you because I’m afraid of what loving you could mean, Draco shouted internally. I hate you because hating you is all I’ve ever known, and I wouldn’t know what to do with myself otherwise. 

That was a lie. He knew exactly what he would do with himself, starting with Harry’s unruly hair and ending at his lips.

He knew exactly what to do with himself, he just didn’t trust himself to stop there. 

Harry decided to just keep going. Draco wasn’t responding, his eyes clouded with thought; Draco wasn’t leaving until he heard everything Harry had to say. 

“You can’t just keep pretending things are fine!” Harry yelled, voice echoing. The glasses drying next to the sink tinkled. “That things are fine the way they are!” 

“Harry,” Draco interrupted calmly, startling him. “I can’t. My father-”

Harry’s eyes were ablaze. “Who the fuck cares what your father thinks? We’re not at school anymore. You’re an adult. You do what you want,” He set his strong arms on the table, leaning over to Draco. His breathing was heavy. Everything in Draco’s body pounded. His heart was trying to catapult itself into Harry’s hands. Here, have it if you want it so bad…God knows I don’t. 

“So what do you want?”

The question weighed tons on Draco’s shoulders. Harry’s breath was warm and his skin smelled of his body soap. 

Draco licked his lips nervously. “Look, I’m flattered, Potter-” his chair nearly tipped over and he nearly choked on his own saliva. 

Harry was done talking. They had talked and bickered all eight bloody years at school. He kissed Draco. Softly, quietly, as if this was the most normal thing in the world. The mid afternoon sun peaked through the clouds, snaking through the blinds above the sink. Draco heard the birds twittering. 

“I don’t want to be drunk every time I see you,” Harry whispered. 

Draco gave up. He felt lighter, somehow. “I don’t want to regret you the next morning, because I don’t…” he replied against Harry’s lips, which twitched ever so slightly. 

“I want to feel you,” Harry was smiling now, dimple and all. “Sober. Draco full force.”

“Mmm,” Draco couldn’t help but smile in return. “Are you sure you’ll survive that?”

“To be honest, I’m not so sure,” Harry chuckled, a light blush coming over his cheeks. Not so intimidating now, was he?

“So what do you say? You and me, completely sober, on a date.”

Draco sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. “Well, I suppose I could clear my calendar.”

Harry laughed, pecking Draco again. Suddenly, his face fell. 

“My tea’s gone cold.”


End file.
